


House Call

by WonderstruckSwan



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Like one instance, Mild Cursing, Sick Fic, but if u are into heathers u can probably tolerate cursing, non abusive au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderstruckSwan/pseuds/WonderstruckSwan
Summary: Veronica gets sick, she is stubborn and JD reveals his inner mother hen.





	House Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the universe of my other, bigger fic not beyond repair, but can be read alone. All you need to know is Claire, who is referenced later in the fic, is JD's foster mum and he no longer lives with his dad. And he's also, you know, not an abusive murderer and their relationship is cute and healthy and happy.

School starts back after Christmas break in early January, when skies are still grey in the morning and nearly black as she walks home. The Christmas break brought snow and even more rain along with the chilly winds. Veronica barely felt them, hardly ever going outside, spending most of her break inside with her parents or at Martha’s house or in her room with JD, where they found their own ways to warm each other up. However, a lot of her classmates were out over the break, attending Christmas parties and New Year’s Eve parties all over the town. Apparently Heather Chandler’s New Year’s Eve party was the social event of the year, anyone who was anyone was there. Well, that was her now, a nobody.

But her being a nobody did have one perk; all that walking around in the early hours of the morning in short skirts or open shirts meant the flu fought its way into the student body of Westerburg. Five people are out of her homeroom on the first day back, and quite a few snuffle and cough all through the day. JD swears half of his homeroom class are absent too. He gets concerned about her quickly, especially when she calls round to Heather Mac’s house delivering homework she missed, worried she’ll catch it next. She shakes her head at her ridiculously protective boyfriend and tells him not to worry, her immune system is a beast, and she doesn’t get sick.

Which is what she keeps telling herself as she walks to school one morning with a blocked nose and a pounding headache. It’s also what she had told her mom when she had asked if she was okay, grabbing a slice of toast and narrowly avoiding her mom’s hand heading for her forehead. And it’s probably what she’ll be saying to her friends and boyfriend.

“Morning,” JD greets at her locker. His usual disarming smile disappears almost as soon as he sees her, though. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she says, fighting her hoarse throat and praying she sounds normal. Though she can’t really hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you don’t really look… yourself,” he says finally. Veronica smiles, letting the locker door hide it. He somehow always knows how to break things to her gently. It’s that damn way with words that makes teachers hate him.

“Just a little tired,” she answers, putting the last of her morning books in her bag, closing the locker and turning to face him. She takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I promise, J.”

“If you say so,” he says uncertainly, and leans in to kiss her forehead.

That’s when her guard drops and the whole façade breaks.

“Ronnie, you’re burning up,” he says, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead and then her cheek, his eyes wide with worry. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, swatting his hand away. “Just a little under the weather but I’ll be fine, trust me.”

“You don’t look fine,” he replies. She groans, hoping he’ll stop soon because she doesn’t like fighting with him anyways, let alone when her head is pounding like it is now. Martha and Heather Mac slide up behind her, apparently sensing the tension between them.

“What’s going on?” Martha asks, looking from Veronica to JD. Her eyes linger on Veronica and Veronica tries not to curse. No one knows her better than Martha.

“Veronica’s sick,” JD says. “Martha, check her temperature and then tell her she needs to go home, please?”

Martha nods and goes to check her forehead, but Veronica ducks under her arm and steps away, which only makes her head hurt even more, and now her stomach decides to join in and starts cramping painfully. Her chest tightens, her breaths short and shallow while the hallway dips.

“Veronica?” she hears someone ask. She assumes it’s JD but focussing is just a little bit difficult right now.

“I’m fine,” she says. At least, she thinks she says it. The ringing in her ears is far too loud, drowning out her own voice. She shakes her head, trying to make sense of everything, but it just makes it hurt more and her vision swim.

“Veronica!” JD calls. It’s only when she collides with his chest that she even realises she had been falling in the first place. She curls her hands into his shoulders while he holds her face, his thumb stroking under her eye. “Ronnie, Ronnie talk to me.”

“I’m… okay,” she tells him, leaning into his touch, willing herself to focus on his worried face. He adjusts his hold on her, helping her stand straight. He pushes her hair away from her face and winces when his fingers touch her skin. “I’m okay.”

“Are you willing to go home now?” he asks, half joking, half begging.

Her mom comes to the school so quickly that it makes Veronica wonder if she broke the speed limit trying to get there. JD had tried to sit with her until her mom came, but he was told repeatedly to get to class. Still, he did one last check on her before he left, kissing her hand and promising to copy what notes she misses in English. In an odd way, she’s thankful for the fever, because it means no one can see her blushing.

Her mom, true to form, is beside herself when she comes to the school to pick her up. The whole ride home, Veronica presses her cheek against the window, trying not to sigh in relief as the glass cools her warm cheek. Once at home, she gets the same treatment she did in grade school, thermometer, two different kinds of medicine, tea, and pyjamas, as well as the bin by her bed. Her mom checks her temperature again before Veronica assures her that she’s fine and really, all she wants, and needs, to do is sleep.

Once her mom finally leaves, she rolls over onto her stomach and presses her face into her pillow, letting out a long, low groan. Pain shoots through her stomach, which sloshes dangerously, threatening to bring up her breakfast, meanwhile her head pounds a constant, painful rhythm. She tries drinking the tea her mom made her, but her throat is so raw it burns down her throat and makes her eyes water. She had forgotten to ask her mom to close the curtains and the sun glares through the window, making it impossible for her to open her eyes without making the pain in her head worse. She feels like she should just get out of bed and close them herself but the air feels frigid, or maybe that’s just her. In any case, the blanket she’s cocooned herself in is too warm and comfortable to leave right now. She thinks that she’ll get up and close them in a minute, once she’s properly warmed up, only her eyes start closing and she snuggles further into the pillow, tucking her knees up to her chest as her breathing starts to even out as much as possible, telling herself she’ll close it in just a minute…

                                                                                                                *****

At the end of the day, instead of going straight on the way back to his own house, JD turns left, in the direction of Veronica Sawyer’s house. He had called Claire on the payphone outside the school the minute he’d got out and told her what he was doing. Well, he asked if he could and she made him promise her that he’d be back by six.

He just wants to see if she’s okay. He worked it out during free period; if she’s asleep, he’ll leave as quickly as he came. And if she’s awake, she can decide if she wants him to stay or go.

Veronica’s been the only thing he’s thought about all day. That in itself isn’t necessarily strange, frankly, thinking about her is one of his favourite things to do when she’s not there. But where he normally thinks about all the reasons he loves her or reflects on the good times they’ve had so far or dares to dream about the even better times that they’ll make in the future, all he’s thought about today was the image of her pale and sick in her bed and how awful she had looked that morning. He swears his heart nearly burst out of his chest when he felt how warm she was. And then almost stopped beating altogether when she had started falling. He had searched her eyes, her beautiful, perfect eyes, to check if she was still there, cradling her head and helping her stand. It had been horrible to say the least.

He doesn’t bother with a door. They hardly use each other’s front door, not since their first night together when she stumbled into his room and made him hers. He grabs the trellis and starts climbing, scurrying as fast as he can past the windows on the ground floor. The climb isn’t necessarily easy, the trellis was not made for climbing, but he’s done it so often it’s second nature now. He grabs onto her window ledge and pulls himself up, straining his arms, and finally rests his arms on her window ledge, his legs dangling dangerously. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s a long way down if he slips.

Veronica hasn’t closed her curtains. He sees her sitting up in her bed, clearly not asleep, a mug in her hand. He can’t see much of her, far away as her bed is from the window, but her hair is messy and she wears a large sweatshirt over her pyjamas. He peers closer, thinking about how he’s never seen her wear that before, and that he’s sure he lent her a sweatshirt just like that over the Christmas break and hasn’t seen it since.

He knocks on the window, alerting her to his presence. She gets up to let him in, but she stumbles almost as soon as her feet hit the floor, and he snaps off the lock and pushes the window up, wriggling through before landing in an ungraceful heap. When he looks up, he sees her giggling behind her hand.

“Don’t mock me, Nica,” he tells her, closing the window. When he comes over to greet her, he can see her shivering, and how pale her face is, dark circles under her eyes. “And get back in that bed.” He looks at what she’s wearing and chuckles as he helps her. “I’m glad you’re putting my sweatshirt to good use.”

“It’s the comfiest thing I own,” she replies, pulling her cover around her. He nods and checks her forehead, wincing. She’s still far too warm for his liking, and her voice is hoarse. Veronica pouts at him and takes his hand away from her forehead so she can kiss his wrist, batting her eyes at him. “I’ll be fine, J. Really. Just a day or two in bed and a load of over the counter pills.” He hums in agreement. He won’t stop worrying, even when he sees the three sheets of pills, all opened, on her bedside and a near-empty glass of water.

“I had a free period, so I copied out what you missed in English,” he tells her, pulling them out of his bag. “And MacNamara copied your notes from French and gave them to me.” She groans, scrunching up her nose as he puts them on her desk.

“Did I miss anything good?” she asks, toying with his hand.

“Not really,” he says. “Just started working on a new poem. One of Mr Donne’s Holy Sonnets. Not one of my favourites, but it’s fine.”

“I see,” she says, a gleam in her eye. “And did you get into any arguments?”

“Why would I do that?” he asks. “Our teacher is entitled to her wrong opinions, and that’s fine.” Veronica raises her eyebrows, a silent way of saying ‘I am calling out your bullshit’. “Well, we did disagree slightly. We had a very reasonable debate.”

“Of course you did,” she says fondly. She tugs on his arm playfully until he lays down beside her, one arm under his head and the other around her waist while she toys with his two necklaces. “I missed you.”

“Oh, did you?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm.” He doesn’t think she’s ever been this playful before. She’s like a damn kitten. A kitten with an infectious smile.

“I missed you too, my darling,” he says, kissing her hair. He then kisses her forehead, then her nose, then on her cheek, then finally her lips. It’s never planned for him, but simple goodbye pecks leave him wanting more.

“Wait,” she protests. “Sorry, it’s just… this seems pretty contagious. I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Well, I do happen to have a very strong immune system,” he tells her, but she just silently pleads with him. “But if you insist.” He settles for sitting up against her backboard and letting her lean against him, her cheek against his chest, his hand stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” she says softly.

“It’s okay,” he replies. A shiver runs through her body and he pulls the blanket tighter around her. “It’s okay, just get yourself better.” He can never be upset with her for too long, wrapped around her little finger and utterly in love as he is.

“Everyone says it just lasts for a few days-” She breaks off into a coughing fit, coughs wrecking her body until her face is red and her eyes water. JD rubs her back but feels helpless as he watches her. Finally, it subsides and he helps her take a drink of water, only for her to gag and scrunch up her face, her eyes watering. He helps her lower herself back down onto the bed, trying not to panic as she curls in on herself, her eyebrows furrowing together.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, worried if he speaks too loudly he’ll hurt her even more.

“Fine,” she replies through gritted teeth. “Stomach hurts.” She shivers, burying her face into her pillow. “I’m cold.”

“Tell me what I can do,” he begs without thinking. He wishes he could take all her pain away from her if he could. He’d go through it himself gladly if it meant she’d stop suffering.

“Just… don’t leave,” she answers quietly, sleep tugging on the edge of her voice.

“I won’t,” he promises her, stroking her arm.

“Veronica?” her mother’s voice asks from the other side of the door, startling Veronica into awareness.

“Get under the bed,” she whispers and he ducks under while Veronica plays at being asleep. The door creaks open and he sees Mrs Sawyer’s pink slippers as she checks on her daughter. He hears the rustling of blankets above him and assumes she’s fixing them for her. He curls his hands into the carpet and bites his lip, taking shallow breaths in an effort to remain as still and silent as possible. His relationship with Veronica’s parents has gone better than he expected, but he knows that breaking into their only child’s room might just have an effect on that. He holds his breath as she stays, probably checking her daughter’s temperature or kissing her forehead when she’s not awake to be embarrassed. He hears her lift the empty mug form her nightstand and watches her go and shut the curtains before leaving again, clicking the door shut behind her.

He can finally exhale. He rolls out from under the bed, chuckling softly to himself.

“That was a little too close for comfort,” he sighs, sitting back on the bed. Veronica remains still, turned away from him, seemingly curled into a ball. “Veronica?” No answer. He listens to her steady, well as steady as it can be with her blocked nose, breathing and circles the bed to see her eyes shut. Not wanting to wake her, he kisses the tip of his finger and taps her cheek lightly. She murmurs something but doesn’t wake.

Still, he did promise her that he’d stay. He settles himself against her wall, taking off his coat and taking his US history file out of his bag, starting to answer the homework questions. There was a time where he never did the homework, taking the punishment with boredom whenever the teachers bothered to check, finding the whole thing rather amusing. But then homework with Veronica became a common activity and before he knew it, he was doing it without her, getting good grades on tests and positive feedback on assignments. Some teachers liked him more now, some still think he’s a pain in their ass, but it’s a step up from his old school. Maybe he’ll make something of himself here. More than the former future head of Big Bud Dean construction.

He looks over at the still-asleep Veronica. He can worry about his future later, for now all he can think about is her. He gets up and takes a look at the pills on her bedside. One to ease her cough, one to combat her fever and one to fight her headache. If the pained look on her sleeping face and the tension in her shoulders and hand as she grips the pillow is anything to go by, they haven’t been very effective. He presses the back of his hand to her forehead, still just as warm as it was before. Still, she’s taken quite a lot of the medicine and the bin next to her bed is empty and clean, so that’s a good sign.

When she whimpers and stirs, he pulls his hand away. She wrinkles her nose, lets out a long breath and opens her eyes.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, stroking her hair gently. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead, she wriggles to the side of her bed and pulls the covers back slightly. He looks blankly at her, wondering if she’s still mostly asleep, but she takes his hand and tugs on it.

“You. Bed. Now,” she says, no force behind her words. “I need body heat.” He laughs and takes his boots off before sliding into her bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and pulling her even closer. She makes a small noise of contentment and buries her face in his chest. She keeps shivering against him but it’s less than before.

“Are you warmer now?” he asks, amused.

“Yeah,” she says, followed by a yawn.  She pokes his chest weakly. “You better still be here when I wake up.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he says.

“Okay,” she sighs. Her shoulders sag, her breathing becomes slow and the hand against becomes slack, fingertips grazing the fabric of his t-shirt. He kisses her messy, unbrushed hair, stroking his fingers up and down her back. Every day he thinks about how lucky he is to have her, how grateful he is that he met her, that she loves him even with his bad days and loose screws.

He matches his breathing to the chest pressed against his, pressing his lips to her forehead out of habit. As his eyes close, he doesn’t fight it, only briefly thinking about Claire and the promise he made to her to be home by six. He lets himself drift off with his arm around Veronica, letting go of any mundane thing that might matter. The only thing that matters right now is the girl snuggled next to him.

                                                                                                *****

“Veronica!”

Veronica tries to sit up at the sound of her name being called in her mother’s angry tone, every nerve in her body wanting to shoot right up, but her limbs feel too heavy and her mind too cloudy. This better be an emergency, because that sleep she was in the middle of was really great. She feels a warm weight lifting off her, and guesses JD got up to-

Oh crap.

Her foggy mind puts the pieces together- her mom walked in on her and her boyfriend cuddling, when her mom was not aware said boyfriend was in the house.

She blinks her bleary eyes and sees her mother with her mouth hanging open, no sound coming out, looking from JD to Veronica, her eyes demanding an explanation. JD is already off the bed, his coat on and boots in one hand like he’s ready to run right out the door.

“Veronica,” she says, her voice tight. “What is the meaning of-”

“It was my fault, Mrs Sawyer,” JD explains. “I came by to see how she was doing and give her the stuff she missed from class.”

“And I asked him to stay,” Veronica continues. “He was just doing it to make me happy.”

“I see,” her mother says, wringing her hands together. She’s like a clockwork toy that’s too tightly wound up. “And when did you get here, JD? I didn’t answer the door for you.”

She and JD exchange a quick glance before he answers. They’re in hot enough water as it is, but they can’t think of a better answer. So it’s time to turn the temperature up to boiling.

“I came in through Veronica’s window,” he confesses.

Veronica worries for a moment that they’ll have to call an ambulance to help her mom through a stroke. She takes in long, high breaths, wiping her hands on her long skirt in an effort to compose herself.

“Right,” she says, clearing her throat. “Well you know, Jason, we have a front door.”

“Yes,” he says, putting his backpack on his shoulders. “And I will use that now.” He looks at Veronica, aware of her mother’s presence. He doesn’t kiss her on the lips or head like he usually does. He settles for taking her hand gently, rubbing circles on the back of it. “I’ll see you later. Feel better soon.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” he gets up to leave, nodding politely at her mother. “Good evening, Mrs Sawyer.” She doesn’t answer him, just watching him with tight lips and eyes like a hawk.

“Mom,” Veronica says when she hears the front door open and shut. “Mom, I asked him to stay. I made him promise to stay.” Her mom stays silent, her arms folded, and Veronica groans. “Mom, please, he just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Well he could have used the door,” she says, sitting down on the bed, anger melting away as motherly concern takes over. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she sighs, although she’s pretty far from fine. Her head might be calmer now, but there’s still a steady, sharp pulse beating behind her eyes. “Better, I guess. Tired.” Her mom feels her forehead and Veronica rights the urge to roll her eyes.

“You’re still warm,” she observes and checks the sleeves of pills on her bedside table, popping out one from each. “Just take these. You haven’t had any since this morning.” Veronica sighs but does as she’s told, downing them each with a drink of water one after the other. “I’m going to put dinner on, you want some?”

“Sure,” she says, thinking about how painfully empty her stomach feels. She hasn’t thrown up all day, so maybe that’s a start. “I’ll try.” She settles herself back on the pillow as her mom gets up. “Mom?” She turns around just as she reaches the door. “Please don’t stay mad at JD. He just wanted to check up on me.”

“As long as he uses the door next time,” she says. Veronica takes that as a victory and snuggles back into her pillow, quickly falling to sleep.

She spends the next three days at home, alternating between sleeping, coughing, reading and eating what she can. She keeps one eye on the window, but JD doesn’t stop by again. Martha comes by with her homework and tells her that he misses having her around. She describes him as a ‘sad puppy whose owner went on vacation’ but confesses with a bit of digging that he’s reluctant to come by after what happened with her mom. It does give her a chuckle that her tiny, perky mother managed to scare the toughest person she’s ever met.

On Friday morning her fever breaks and she feels well enough to drag her blankets downstairs with her and longue on the couch, watching TV and eating almost three whole meals. Breathing is much more easy and all that’s left of her illness is a few coughs and snuffles.

Saturday morning she feels herself again, waking up late and kicking her blankets off her, feeling suffocating by them. She sighs, thinking that if she’s learned one thing from this whole experience, it’s that she’s never taking shit like breathing normally or being able to turn a light on without feeling like your head’s going to explode for granted ever again. She stretches before rolling over and lifting up the phone next to her bed, dialling her boyfriend’s number.

“Hello?” he answers, his voice thick and groggy, sounding like he’s just woken up. Odd, he’s always up long before this. He has to be, waking up at 7 every morning, even when school isn’t on and then never getting back to sleep.

“Hey, you,” she replies. “So I’m feeling way better. So I thought to make up for lost time, we could go down to the diner and grab breakfast? I’m craving a stack of pancakes right now.”

“That sounds wonderful,” he says, before launching into a minor coughing fit. “But um, unfortunately, I don’t think I can.”

“Is everything okay?” she asks, sitting up and swinging her legs around the edge of the bed.

“Fine,” he says with a cough. “Just a little under the weather.”

“You’re sick,” she points out with a smile. “You caught my flu, didn’t you?”

“Oh, who knows where I caught it,” he says. “Our school is flooded with germs.” On his end, she hears someone, who she assumes is Claire, talking to him, and him replying. “No it’s just Veronica… yeah okay. Yeah. Sorry, Ronnie, I have to go. Claire bought an entire drugstore counter for me.”

“Okay,” she says, winding the phone cord around her fingers. “I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.” He hangs up, leaving her with the dial tone ringing in her ear. She flops backwards onto her bed, patting her stomach with her hands. She’ll see him later; he can count on that. Just not as late as he might have thought.

After lunch, she heads to JD’s place, taking an extra warm jacket and a scarf at her mother’s request. She finds it odd how much she enjoys being in the outside world again after days being cooped indoors.

When she reaches JD’s house, she doesn’t even pause before heading to the side and beginning to climb up the side of his house. She’s done this at 2 am when it was colder than this and she had much less clothing on. Claire must have closed the curtains, but she fights her way past them after opening his window lock one handed and pushing her body through the window, turning around so that she lands silently on her feet.

Inside, the bedside lamp is on and JD is starfished flat on his bed, his hair a mess, an extra blanket on top of him. At the sound of her coming in and shutting the window, he raises his head, frowning in confusion.

“Veronica?” he asks hoarsely.

“Hey,” she says softly, suddenly self-conscious. She sits on the edge of the bed and lets him grip her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m dying, Nica,” he groans. “Stay with me.”

“Always,” she answers. She lays down behind him, her chest resting against his back, her hand reaching around to hold his. “Would now be a bad time to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Hmm?” he asks sleepily. She chuckles and kisses the back of his head.

“So much for your strong immune system, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this random pointless fluffy thing. I've read fics where Veornica cares for a sick JD, I thought it would be fun to reverse the roles.  
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as always.


End file.
